


where is the horse and the rider

by BatWingsandBlackCats



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: (mild violence), Angst, Carmilla Big Bang 2017, F/F, Fantasy Violence, Fluff, Gondorian!Carmilla, Lord Of The Rings AU, Return of the King AU, Rohan!Laura, They're idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:49:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12103095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatWingsandBlackCats/pseuds/BatWingsandBlackCats
Summary: Co-written by svelazquez1220Laura, princess of Rohan, has yearned her entire life to do something useful for the good of Middle-Earth, and her friends, instead of being busy doing housework and taking care of the men. Out of the blue, she gets a chance to ride to Gondor with the Witch Periannath--or Perry--on an important mission, and there she meets a Captain in the Gondorian army who may just help her reach that goal, and more.





	where is the horse and the rider

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> HERE IT IS, THE MONSTER FIC. 
> 
> Sage and I have been working on this fic since May, but we've actually been talking about it for a little over a year. This fic is actually how we met about a year ago, so we figured it'd be the perfect one to write for the Big Bang! This fic really means a lot to us and it's so cool to see it finally finished. 
> 
> Thank you to Sage for being completely awesome and a great co-writer, and also not minding when I'd bug you about lore in the middle of the night.
> 
> And thank you arthkael for doing the amazing accompanying artwork!
> 
> If you'd like, please check out our new join fanfic tumblr, @batwingsandsvelazquez--writes !
> 
> Thank you for reading, and we hope you enjoy!!!

Laura didn’t have to worry too much about masking her footsteps with all the clanking and yelling and whinnying that filled the air around Edoras.  
   
That and the fact that she _lived_ there was a good cover for being where she wasn’t supposed to.  
   
Laura held tight to the empty canvas bag that she had hidden under her green cloak, and slipped between the carved and gilded doors of the royal armory. It wasn’t really stealing if her father was the King, right? Either way, Laura had a job to do. She wove through the racks and shelves of armor and supplies, picking items from the back so nobody would notice right away. Rations, some of the men’s clothing (the pants would be far too long no matter what size she grabbed, but that’s what scissors were for) padded armor and a helmet--she’d have to come back for the rest. It wouldn’t fit in the bag, and she couldn’t have the bag clanking around too much because then it would draw attention. If her father or Mel found out--who would then tell her father, being head of the royal guard--her entire plan would be ruined.  
   
Laura snuck back to the door, cracked it open a sliver, and slipped back out into the cold, late-winter air after a group of soldiers marched past. She paused as she made her way towards the stables, and looked out across the village. Soldiers were running to and fro, leading horses down the dirt paths. Children were running about, some trailing after solders with their little wooden swords, some chasing each other and laughing, some clinging to their mother’s skirts. Some of the women were packing horses and putting together bundles of rations for the soldiers. It seemed like an age had passed since she’d seen the village this...lively. Even though they were on the eve of war, Sauron’s shadow hanging thick overhead, there seemed to be a renewed morale about the village now that their king was free from Saruman’s hold, and back to his old, steadfast self.  
   
Laura was shaken from her thoughts as another group of soldiers drew near, and she hurried towards the stables to pack her haul into her horse’s saddlebags. She’d managed to slip out of the armory unseen so far, and she couldn’t afford to be caught now.  
   
The stables were as beautiful as the Golden Hall of Meduseld itself. Four great carved pillars framed the doorway, the wood dyed in rich reds, greens and golds, and a great carved horse head peeked out from the golden thatch at the peak of the roof. The inside was no different, paths of reddish stone wandering between the individual stalls and down the center of the building. There were no doors on the stalls, the horses knowing which ones were theirs, and that they were to wait for their masters and not wander off. The stalls were padded with fresh hay and the walls bore similar carvings to the pillar outside. Smaller pillars stood in front of each stall, dividing them, and were heavy with fine leather harnesses and bags of supplies.  
   
Laura smiled when she saw her horse, Felarof, and reached up to pat his speckled cheek and bump her head against his nose. “Morning, Fel,” She cooed, producing an apple from her bag for him, and then set the bag down so that she could scratch his neck. “we’re going on a trip,” She said, patting his neck, and then moved towards the saddle and reigns that sat on an ornate stand at the rear of his stall. Off to the left of the stand, under a blanket, lay her sword and shield, which she’d snuck out of her chambers in the early morning and hid there before returning for breakfast.  
   
Laura went about fitting the saddle on him, first laying down the blanket Kirsch had given her and laughing a little when Felarof nudged the side of her head when she walked around him to straighten out the other side. She was just beginning to fill the saddlebags with the rations and clothes when she heard a pair of feet crunch the hay at the doorway to Felarof’s stall.  
   
“Laura, what are you doing?”  
   
Laura’s head shot up at the intruder’s words. She reddened slightly, her eyes flicking between the Ranger at the doorway to the stall, and the sword in her hands.  
   
“Danny!” Laura blurted out, her voice high. “Uh--good morning. What--uh--what are you doing here?”  
   
Before Laura stood Danny, or _Strider_ , as her friends called her, due to her extreme height. She had arrived nearly a week earlier with three companions--an elf, a dwarf, and a witch--and would be joining the Rohirrim on their ride to Minas Tirith. She was a Ranger from the North, dressed in travel worn clothes. She wore a black shirt, torn in places—especially on the sleeves—beneath a brown leather jerkin, and a dark green cape was fastened at her neck with a shining elven brooch in the shape of a leaf, and a pair of Gondorian bracers were fastened to her forearms. A simple sword hung at her hip. Her boots had seen better days, as had her riding pants, but the one thing that had always caught Laura’s eye was the jewel around her neck, usually tucked into her shirt. Occasionally it would escape its confines, and it seemed to radiate light all on its own. 

Nobody quite knew who she was or why she was there, but she had a queenly air about her, despite her ragged appearance, and seemed to be on some greater mission, which Laura was determined to find out about. Laura had found herself drawn to the Ranger, the feeling tugging at her heart, but at the moment she just felt a pit in her stomach.  
   
“I came to feed Hasufel...Laura, _what_ are you doing?” Danny repeated, eyes flicking between Laura and the sword in her hand, and the softness Laura had begun to feel for Danny over the last week soured at the accusing look in her eye.  
           
Laura squared her shoulders. “Packing,” She said shortly, gripping her sword tighter. “I intend to ride with the Rohirrim to battle,”   
   
Danny sighed. “Laura, you can’t, it’s too dangerous,” she said, “and your duty lies here,”   
   
“To what?” Laura bristled, “To make the beds and keep the food warm for when the men return? I have just as much a right to fight as you.”   
   
“You don’t have enough training, you’ll die!”   
   
“You could die too and that doesn’t stop you,” Laura shot back, raising her voice, “I have the right to fight for my people and if I die along the way, then so be it!”   
   
“Laura--” Danny started again, but was cut off by a third voice.   
   
“She’s right, Danielle,”   
   
Laura looked past Danny as the Ranger turned, to see Periannath Stormcrow, or just Perry, as Laura was told to call her, standing there in her riding clothes of a white robe and cloak, fastened around her neck with a silver elven brooch, leaning on her white staff. Her white, saddleless horse, Shadowfax, stood behind her, nuzzling gently at her red curls that had seemed to be hastily tied back in preparation for the ride ahead.   
   
“I am in need of her, for a task,” Perry continued briskly, and looked to Laura. “I am riding to Gondor, and you will be coming with me as an ambassador. Finish packing and meet me at the door to the stables once you’re finished, we don’t have time to waste,”   
   
“I will,” Laura nodded, and hastened her movements. She couldn’t hold back a grin at the thought of finally doing something meaningful. Constructive. She glanced at Danny, a look of defiant determination in her eyes.   
   
Danny ground her teeth in frustration, but sighed once she caught the look Perry was giving her, knowing there was no use in trying to argue with the witch. She stalked down the path to her own horse, sword clinking with each step.   
   
//  
   
 _One week earlier  
   
Laura looked out over the village from the entrance to The Golden Hall, and watched as four figures were escorted up the path to the hall by two guards. Behind her, the doors to the hall opened, and out marched Melanippe, head of the royal guard, flanked by four guards on each side, staring down the visitors as they approached.   
   
“I cannot allow you before Théoden King, so armed,” Mel announced, eyes scanning the four travelers.   
   
Three of the travelers, an elf, a woman, and a dwarf, looked disgruntled at the request, but the fourth, a woman swathed in white robes seemed to give them reassurance, and the three handed over their weapons--the dwarf pulling smaller and smaller ones from more and more unlikely places--and finally the woman in white handed over her own sword that had been buckled to her hip.   
   
“Your staff,” Mel prompted.   
   
“Oh,” The woman in white tutted, “you wouldn’t deny a woman with a bad leg her walking stick, would you?”   
   
Mel rolled her eyes but relented, turning to lead the four inside.   
   
The hall was dark, the torches and fires minimal, not at all the bright hall Perry remembered. Théoden sat slumped on his throne, draped in rotting furs, hair matted, his skin weathered and grey and his eyes in a thousand-yard stare. As the four travelers entered the hall flanked by guards, a hunched man with short cropped black hair, who had been sitting at the foot of Théoden’s throne, stood.   
   
“I told you, no visitors,” He snarled at Mel, who glared back at him.   
   
Perry stepped forward ahead of the group. “Your hall isn’t as nice as it once was, Théoden,” She said briskly, “I must say, I’m not terribly fond of Saruman’s touch,”   
   
“I said, no visitors!” the man yelled again, striding towards Perry, his face twisted in fury. _

_Perry rolled her eyes, and with a flick of her staff, sent him flying into a wall. Unfazed, she turned back to Théoden as her companions looked on, the dwarf looking gleeful. She pointed her staff at Théoden, sighing. “I leave for a few years to take care of some business and you let a worm in, Théoden,” She stepped forward, watching as Théoden groaned under the force of the spell. “I release, you from Saruman’s hold, Théoden King,” She jutted her staff forward with one hand, her other hand stretched out. Théoden’s head cracked against the back of his throne, and Perry winced slightly.  
   
Just then, Laura entered the hall. “Dad!” She cried, and went to run to her father’s side, but was but was caught around the middle by the tall redhead.   
   
“Wait,” The woman hissed.   
   
Laura continued to struggle in the woman’s grasp, but stopped as she watched what was happening before her. She looked from Perry’s face, deep in concentration, and then to her father’s face, that was rapidly changing. The deep wrinkles around his mouth and eyes were receding, his skin becoming rosy again, his blond hair untangling from it mats and returning to it’s neat, trimmed length. His fingers unhooked, his gnarled nails becoming clean once again. The fog slowly lifted from his grey eye, and he blinked slowly in the dim light, like a bear waking from its slumber.    
   
Théoden took a shuddering breath, his first free breath in years.   
   
Laura broke free from the woman’s arms and ran forward as Théoden began leaning forward, catching Théoden before he fell from his throne. She pushed him back by his shoulders, and took his face between her hands, trying to catch his eyes.   
   
“Dad?” She asked warily, unwilling to get her hopes up.   
   
She watched as he looked around the room, acclimating himself to the familiar sight of his hall, until his eyes fell onto his daughter.   
   
“I know your face,” He said tiredly, with a half-smile.   
   
Joy and disbelief crossed Laura face and she surged forward, hugging him tight around the neck. “I missed you,” She whispered.   
   
Across the hall, the man Perry had thrown into the wall, Theo, began to stir, and moved to get up, but the red-headed dwarf shoved their booted foot into his chest. “I’d stay right there if I were you,” They said with a satisfied grin.   
   
\-------  
   
Later that night, with Theo banished for poisoning the mind of the King, and after Théoden had bathed and eaten, the travelers met with Théoden, Laura, and the royal guard in the great hall once again, this time around a roaring fire. _

_The torches had all been lit again at Théoden’s request, and the hall was brighter than Laura had seen in years. the gold of the sconces and the banners gleamed bright in the light, and the cobwebs had been whisked away, the windows uncovered. People were bustling in and out of the room, cooking over the fires and bringing in barrels of ale, and the air smelled of cooking meat and wood smoke and cool mountain air. The group sat around the fire, well fed, and each with a mug of ale in their hands.  
   
Perry finally explained everything as they sat around the fire. The tall woman’s name was Danny, a Ranger from the north, JP, the Elf Prince of Mirkwood, and the red headed dwarf was LaFontaine, hailing from the Halls of Durin, child of Gloín. They had been on a journey to Mordor to destroy the One Ring when they’d gotten separated from the two Hobbits in their company, Sam and Frodo. The hobbits were still on their way to Mordor, last Perry had heard, and the company’s focus had shifted to rallying the free peoples of Middle-Earth in order to help the Hobbits on their quest.   
   
Now that Théoden was freed from Saruman’s hold and Theo’s influence, Théoden had immediately agreed to help. The Rohirrim would begin preparations come the morning, and the travelers would rest for a few days before carrying on with their plan.   
   
Laura sat quietly and listened throughout the meeting, but her heart was beating out of her chest. Finally, there was life, activity happening within Meduseld, within Edoras. She’d missed it desperately.  _

_This was exciting in its own right, but she also saw her chance._

_Her chance to do something for the good of Middle-Earth.  
   
//  
   
Present Day_  
   
Two days later, Minas Tirith was in Perry and Laura’s sights. 

The White City rose from the mountainside like a great crown, its many levels made of white stone looking like a beacon against the barren landscape surrounding it. A massive craggy ridge rose up through the levels of the city, extending in a point far, far overhead, marking the location of the Citadel, and the courtyard that spanned the ridge, stretching out in front of it.

The two continued to ride hard towards the great white walls, and when the guards saw the White Witch approaching, they began to pull the gates open. The two travelers raced up the cobblestone streets, startled Gondorians looking at them as they flew by, making their way up to the highest level of the city, to the Citadel was located.  
   
When they reached the Citadel, they dismounted their horses near the great doors that marked the entrance of the throne room, and Laura went to walk towards the doors, but Perry stopped her.  
   
“Before we continue, listen to me,” Perry said. “Lilita Morgan is Will’s mother, the man that was travelling with Danny and her fellowship, but was killed by the Uruks. Telling her about that could make this whole trip unnecessarily unpleasant. And don’t tell her anything of the Hobbits, or the ring. Or Danny herself.” Perry paused, looking perplexed. “Actually it might be good for now if you didn’t say anything at all,”    
   
Laura nodded, feeling worried. She’d heard about the Stewardess of Gondor’s temper in passing, but nothing in detail. But now she was feeling apprehensive about meeting the Stewardess, to say the least.   
   
Perry made her way up the stairs, Laura close behind, and nodded towards the Citadel guards as they opened the doors for them. Laura’s eyes wandered the throne room as they walked towards the Stewardess’ seat, marveling at the polished white stone that made up the room, matching the rest of the city. The floors were inlaid with intricate geometric designs, and in front of every narrow, arched window, each cocooned in its own alcove, sat a flawless stone statue of a King or Queen of old, bathed in bright sunlight. The arches that soared high above the doorways and alcoves were crafted from alternating white and black stones, the bases of the pillars hewn from matching black stone. 

The room was cold, and hard. No tapestries hung on the walls, no carpet under their feet. Their footsteps echoed along the great white hall, and despite the bright sunlight shining in through the windows on the backs of the Kings and Queens of old, Laura felt a heavy cloud of despair about the room.    
   
“Hail Lilita, daughter of Ecthelion,” Perry greeted, standing tall before the Stewardess.  

Laura stopped a half a step behind Perry as she greeted the Stewardess, holding her hands behind her back and trying to look as presentable as she could after a three-day ride.  
   
Lilita Morgan sat hunched in her chair that was hewn from black stone and built into the base of the vacant throne of the Queen. Her greying hair was pulled back into a tight bun, her lined face in an eternal frown. She was dressed in elegant grey and black robes lined in fur, a jewel set in silver hanging from her neck. She looked up at them, regarding them with cold, steel grey eyes.   
   
“Care to tell me why my son is dead?” Lilita gritted out, holding out a white horn, cloven in two.   
   
Laura’s stomach dropped. She’d gotten the feeling that their trip and by extension, their prospective alliance, rested on the fact that Lilita didn’t know about Will’s passing. But she did.   
   
Perry sighed. She’d been hoping to avoid this. “Your son fell protecting those in his fellowship, and his passing makes our arrival all the more important,” She said, standing steadfast. “I come with Laura, daughter of Théoden, seeking council to discuss an alliance,”   
   
Lilita was about to answer when the doors opened again, and a snarl formed on the Stewardess’ face as she watched a woman clad in leather and armor enter the throne room.   
   
Laura turned when she heard the doors open, her eyes falling on the woman as she walked in. She wasn’t much taller than Laura herself, but she held herself differently. Or it could just be the armor she wore.  

The woman was dressed in oiled brown leather, the tree of Gondor emblazoned on her leather jerkin in silver. She wore a padded gambeson beneath it, worn bracers on her forearms, and on her back hung a quiver and a short bow, a tattered green cloak fastened around her neck. A sword hung at her hip, fastened to a thick brown belt. She was bloodied and battered, her black hair damp with sweat and the grime of battle, and on her brow sat a silver circlet. She was beautiful, regal, someone of obvious importance. 

Her dark brown eyes met Laura’s momentarily, and Laura watched as they softened, looking almost bewildered for a moment, until her gaze was drawn back to the Stewardess, and her jaw tightened, her eyes growing dull again.  
   
“I see you have returned, Carmilla,” Lilita said in a clipped voice, eyes on the woman as she suddenly ignored Perry and Laura. “What news of Osgiliath?”   
   
Carmilla let out a sigh and straightened her posture. “Mother, Osgiliath is lost,”   
   
Lilita gritted her teeth. “Again, your incompetence has lost this city an advantage your brother had won us,” She snarled.   
   
Laura watched as the woman stood there, stony-faced in the face of her mother, anger rising in her stomach. Didn’t the Stewardess see that this woman, Carmilla, was clearly hurt and weary from battle, clearly having fought as best she could? And she was _disappointed?_   
   
“We were ambushed,” Carmilla said, gripping the hilt of her sword tightly. “Hundreds of Orcs came on boats from the river. We were prepared for an attack from land,” Her throat felt tight and her shoulders tense like they always did around her mother, but somehow the woman--from Rohan, judging by her clothes--eased the tension in her chest.   
   
“Your brother would have been prepared for both,” Lilita said. “I do not understand why he tasked you with the defense of Osgiliath, seeing as you are clearly incapable. He would not have disappointed me, as you have.” Carmilla went to say something, but Lilita held up a hand. “Leave us.”   
   
Carmilla nodded and bowed slightly, and turned to leave the room, eyes blank and staring ahead, unseeing as she left the throne room.   
   
Laura looked between Carmilla, Perry, and Lilita, thoroughly disgusted with the way Lilita had talked to her daughter. Disgusted by Lilita’s wickedness, Laura darted out of the throne room and after Carmilla. Carmilla wasn’t far ahead of her, and Laura easily caught up, gently catching Carmilla’s arm.  
   
Carmilla turned around, surprised when she found the woman from Rohan standing there.  

Carmilla was able to properly take her in now that she was up close, but that hadn’t changed her initial perception of the woman. Her honey eyes held a strength, a determination unlike anything Carmilla had seen before, but also tenderness. Softness rested in the curve of her brow even though they were pulled together, the woman’s bottom lip pulled between her teeth in obvious anxiety.  

The woman quickly let go of her arm, and awkwardly laced her fingers together.  
   
“I don’t think what your mother said was fair,” She said, eyes determined. “What you did at Osgiliath was noble, and brave, and-and, you’re obviously tired and hurt, and you deserve better than a welcome like that,”   
   
Carmilla looked at her wordlessly for a moment, flustered by such high praise from a woman she’d never met before. “Thank you,” She managed to get out, sounding only somewhat composed. “That...is very kind of you,” Carmilla was baffled by this woman, so bold as to run out on the Stewardess of Gondor. Even in her dirty riding clothes and with her clearly tired eyes, she was beautiful. Her sun-bleached, windblown hair was slightly tangled as it fell over the green cloak that was draped around her shoulders, her strands of hair mingling with the gold thread that bordered the cloak. “What’s your name?” Carmilla finally asked. 

“Laura,” Laura said, “daughter of Théoden,”   
   
Carmilla’s eyebrows shot up, and she hastily bowed. “Forgive me,”   
   
Laura laughed and gently pushed on Carmilla’s shoulders. “Please don’t, all the bowing is really annoying.” She smiled as Carmilla nodded. “I should get back to Perry,” She said, and stepped away. “Maybe I’ll see you again soon?"   
   
Carmilla smiled a little, and nodded. “I think I’d like that very much,”   
   
\-------  
   
“I can’t _believe_ her!” Laura burst out once her and Perry were in the privacy of Perry’s quarters.   
   
After Perry had finished meeting with Lilita, the two had been shown to the guest quarters, and served tea in Perry’s room. The Witch just sat there calmly and watched, tea in hand, as Laura paced back and forth across the room, ranting and raving about their less than welcoming host.   
   
“Carmilla is her daughter, and she just risked her life to get Osgiliath back, and Lilita doesn’t care?” Laura said, with a huff, stopping in front of Perry, cheeks red and eyes blazing. She hadn’t even taken the time to change out of her riding clothes yet, she was so furious. “Carmilla deserves better than that, this city deserves better than that. Better than a Stewardess who doesn’t even care about her own daughter.”   
   
Perry watched her and let her rant, knowing there was no use in trying to stem it. “It’s anything but a secret that Lilita favored her son over Carmilla,” She said, setting her tea down. “Will was older, successful, and well loved. Not that Carmilla isn’t, but...she’s not Will,”   
   
Laura opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.   
   
“Come in,” Perry called.   
   
A servant opened the door, and bowed to the two of them. “Lady Morgan has invited you both to dine with her and Captain Carmilla,” She said. “Dinner will be served in two hours,”   
   
“We will be there,” Perry said, waving the servant off. “Thank you,”   
   
When the door closed again, Laura whirled around, glaring at Perry. “I will _not_ be eating with that woman,” She said hotly.   
   
Perry sighed wearily. “Laura, you have to. You’re a dignitary and an ambassador of Rohan, refusing a dinner invitation wouldn’t bode well for our prospective alliance. Don’t think I’m very happy about this either, I’ve heard she’s a _filthy_ eater,” She said, wrinkling her nose. 

Laura sighed and ran a hand down her face. “ _Fine._ ” She relented. “But I won’t enjoy it.”   
   
The corner of Perry’s mouth quirked up in amusement. “I wouldn’t expect anything less,”  
   
\-------  
   
Two hours later, Perry and Laura entered the throne room again, but this time bathed and in fresh clothes. They’d been told that dinner was to be held in the throne room, seeing as it would be pointless to prepare the great hall for only four people. Lilita was already seated at the head of the table, an empty chair sitting on each side. Laura took the seat to Lilita’s left, Perry sitting to Laura’s right. Several servants buzzed about, bringing in trays of food and filling the silver goblets with wine.   
   
Laura looked up when she heard the doors to the throne room open again, and her eyes widened as she watched Carmilla walk in.   
   
She had washed, the gentle waves of her dark hair shining in the light of the torches as it cascaded around her shoulders. She was dressed in a black velvet gown, reminiscent of the hauberks of the Citadel guard, which was bordered in silver embroidery. On her brow sat her circlet, polished clean. A delicate, gilded silver belt encircled her hips.   
   
Laura stood from her seat as Carmilla approached the table, and Carmilla paused, looking back at her. Laura had changed as well, now dressed in a deep green gown with a golden belt hanging loosely around her hips. Her hair was pulled back from her face, part of it gathered in a braid, but the rest fell freely down her back.   
   
“You’re late,” Lilita said coldly, snapping both of them out of their reverie.   
   
“I was attending to one of my wounded,” Carmilla said quickly, taking her seat. She desperately hoped none of them would notice the blush coloring her neck and creeping up her cheeks. 

“That is what the healers are for,” Lilita said, bored. “You have other duties,”   
   
Carmilla and Laura’s eyes met as the servants brought the platters of food to the table, and served the four of them.   
   
“Did you ride in from Rohan?” Carmilla asked, changing the subject as she looked over to Perry.   
   
Perry nodded, taking a sip of wine. “My company and I met with Théoden, and his daughter,” She nodded to Laura. “We have come here seeking an alliance,”   
   
“And where were you, Carmilla?” Lilita spat, a trickle of wine running down her chin. Her fingers were stained from the juices of the meat on her plate. “Where were you that you could not make a hastier arrival at Osgiliath?”   
   
Laura’s eyes flicked to Lilita, simmering anger reflected in them, but Lilita didn’t notice.   
   
Carmilla’s grip on her fork tightened. “I was scouting with my company, as I was instructed to,” She said vaguely.   
   
Perry’s eyes lit up, and she looked at Carmilla with new interest. “Where exactly were you?” She asked. “You didn’t happen to see two hobbits, did you?”   
   
“I did,” Carmilla said, looking surprised. “We were in Ithilien, two days ago,”   
   
“And what about their...Mission?” Perry asked, sitting up straighter, eyes piercing Carmilla.   
   
Lilita looked over at Carmilla, eyes icy and piercing, but less interested and more accusatory. “Mission?” She asked, and her face somehow hardened further. “You mean the Ring.”

“Frodo took it with him,” Carmilla said stiffly, aware of her mother’s eyes on her. She looked at Laura briefly, whose face was relieved. “I would not pick it up that thing if it lay in the dirt by the wayside,”   
   
“So _weak,”_ Lilita snarled, glaring daggers at her daughter. “ _William_ would have brought something of such power to his mother,” She said, bits of food flying from her mouth in her rage. “ _William_ would have brought home a Queenly gift,”   
   
Carmilla gritted her teeth, and set her knife down so she wouldn’t throw it. She could feel Laura’s eyes on her, and she hoped Laura wouldn’t see the hurt on her face. “No,” Carmilla said firmly, looking at her mother. “Will wouldn’t have brought it home to you, he would have been consumed by the power and taken it for himself. And when he came home you would not have known your son.”   
   
Laura’s anger was growing in her chest, her grip on her cutlery tightening, and she could feel Perry’s foot nudging her under the table as she looked between Lilita and Carmilla.   
   
Lilita shot up from her chair, a feral scowl on her face, her eyes wild. Her abrupt movement had jerked the table, knocking over her goblet, and red win seeped across the tablecloth like blood. “William was loyal to me!” She burst out, fists clenched. “William would not have let the One Ring slip through his fingers as you had, and sent it off to the Dark Lord on the neck of a Hobbit! He brought Osgiliath back under the control of the White City, and he would not have lost it!”   
   
“What Carmilla did was brave,” Laura grit out, unable to hold it in anymore. “She fought the best she could to take back Osgiliath, and she did the best thing possible for this city. The One Ring is pure evil and bringing it back here would have destroyed Gondor!”   
   
Carmilla looked at Laura, shocked at her outburst. Nobody spoke to the Stewardess like that, especially not a guest, but she was also shocked by what she said, maybe even more so when Laura had said the same thing to her earlier that day.   
   
Lilita turned on Laura, a nasty smirk on her face. “You are nothing but an idealistic child with a warped view of the world,” She growled. “The world of Men is doomed, that ring was the only hope the free people of Middle-Earth had. You would not know power if it held a knife to your throat.” With that, Lilita shot one last disapproving look at Carmilla and stormed out of the throne room, knocking over her chair in the process.   
   
Perry leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes with a sigh. That had gone just _lovely_.   
   
Laura looked to Carmilla, her chest still heaving and her cheeks red, to find Carmilla watching her, an odd look of wonder in her eyes. Laura offered her a small smile, wanting to reach out to her, but she didn’t.   
   
\-------  
   
Later that night, alone, Laura pulled the bag of armor and supplies she’d smuggled out of Rohan, out from under her bed. She was tired, and in desperate need of a good night’s sleep on a real bed, but she had to make note of what she had, and what else she’d need to acquire. She unloaded the bag on her bed and surveyed her haul.   
   
She had a helmet, her sword, a deep green gambeson, pants and a tunic, her shield, rations. It was a good start, but she still needed pauldrons and chainmail if she wanted to last more than a few minutes on the battlefield. A leather jerkin wouldn’t hurt either. On the ride up to the Citadel that morning, she’d caught sight of what she thought was the armory, where, no doubt, sat the rest of what she needed. She didn’t know yet what Perry would need of her for the following day, but she figured she could slip away and steal what she needed eventually.   
   
Laura smiled to herself, satisfied with her preparations so far, but she felt a residual spark of annoyance at Danny for not believing that she was strong enough to join her people in battle. With a little more practice, she could fight just as well as the rest of them, she thought stubbornly.    
   
As she sat down, the event that had happened earlier in the throne room surface, and she felt a familiar tightening in her stomach as anger flooded her again as she thought of how Lilita had treated Carmilla. Carmilla had been nothing but noble and brave in her actions, and resisting the Ring, but Lilita couldn’t see it.   
   
She was distracted from her thoughts though when she heard a knock at the door, and, panicked, quickly shoved all her supplies under her bed before rushing over to the door to open it. There she found Perry, looking as tired as she was.   
   
Perry gave her an odd look at the tense expression Laura wore, but didn’t comment. “I know you’re tired, but I have to tell you this,” She said, “don’t underestimate Lilita. Be wary of her. She is _obviously_ not in her right mind, but she’s still powerful. She still controls this city,”   
   
“I understand,” Laura said, nodding. She felt slightly guilty for her outburst at dinner, but not, at the same time.   
   
Perry nodded, somewhat satisfied. “Just be careful around her.”   
   
//  
   
The next morning, just before the sun rose, Laura snuck out of her room and headed towards the armory, her cloak around her shoulders and her hood drawn up. She carried her empty bag, much like she had back in Rohan, hidden beneath her cloak, and quietly slipped past the guards as they slept. Down two levels and a long corridor, Laura found the armory. She opened the door as quietly as she could and hurried inside before one of the patrols passed by again.   
   
Once inside she quickly found what she needed in the vast, dim room, stuffing her bag with a pair of polished, yet simple steel pauldrons, and the tiniest chainmail shirt and leather jerkin she could find.    
   
\------  
            
Once Laura was safely back in her room, she pulled out the rest of her supplies and laid it out on her bed once again, feeling some of the tension in her recede as she saw that she had everything she could possibly need. She was prepared in this sense, now, at least. She could still use more practice with her sword, since she’d never been allowed to do anything more than basic training.   
   
Laura carefully packed everything away under her bed, save for her sword, and fastened her belt around her hips and set out again, looking for a place she could practice without interruption.   
   
\------  
   
Finding a secluded place was surprisingly easy this early in the morning. Laura came across an abandoned courtyard on one of the upper levels of the city, and drew her sword as the sun rose over the horizon. She twirled her sword around, getting used to the feel of it again, and moved through the exercises she already knew to warm up. She began running through the exercises faster and faster, cursing her dress under her breath occasionally as it tripped her.   
   
She spun around, swinging her sword, and was startled as it suddenly clanged against metal, stopping in midair. She was mortified when her brain caught up to what had happened, and saw that Carmilla was standing in front of her, holding a dagger to block Laura sword, and looking rather amused.   
   
“Oh my god,” Laura gasped, quickly, pulling her sword back as her face turned beet red. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you there, I could have taken your head off, and that would have been really, really bad--”   
   
“It’s alright,” Carmilla chuckled, sheathing her dagger and stepping forward. “I don’t know about taking my head off, but that could have inflicted quite the flesh wound. What are you doing?”   
   
Laura’s grip on her sword tightened, ready for the lecture that she’d received a hundred times. “I’m practicing for battle,” She said, standing up taller. “I was never allowed to learn too much, and I need to practice as much as I can before the battle reaches us,”   
   
Carmilla nodded, but her face betrayed slight annoyance at Laura’s statement. “I never like when men tell women they can’t fight,” She said irritably.   
   
Laura looked at Carmilla, a disbelieving look on her face. She’d never heard _that_ before. “It wasn’t always the men saying that,” She said, her voice betraying a hint of bitterness.   
   
“I could teach you,” Carmilla said after a moment’s consideration. “I personally train my own scouts. I could teach you what I teach them,”   
   
Laura’s jaw all but dropped. “Are you—would you really?” She spluttered, taken aback. She didn’t even know Carmilla, and this woman was more supportive of her than some of her closest friends back home.   
   
“Yeah,” Carmilla said simply, shrugging a shoulder. “I need to go get my sword though, I’ll be back.”   
   
Laura watched her go, still in awe as excitement buzzed in her veins. Someone was finally taking her seriously. A very beautiful someone, no less. Laura blushed slightly at that thought.   
   
Carmilla soon returned, changed out of her formal black velvet hauberk, and was now wearing a simple pair of black leather pants and a loose, white linen shirt. A fine silver chain that had been hidden by her velvet hauberk now peeked out from her shirt. Her sword was belted to her hip, and she’d added a pair of bracers for good measure. Laura noticed an easiness to her step, the tension she’d seen so strongly in Carmilla’s posture the day before, almost gone. She carried a bundle in her hands, and held it out to Laura.   
   
“Here,” Carmilla said, “I figured this would be easier to fight in than a dress. I think we’re the same size.”   
   
Laura curiously unrolled the bundle to find a pair of leather pants, and a shirt, much like the ones Carmilla wore. “I can’t take this,” Laura said quickly, “these are yours.”   
   
Carmilla waved her hand. “I have plenty,” She said, shrugging. “I’d rather you not trip.”   
   
Laura tried to protest again, but Carmilla just gave her an unimpressed look, so Laura quickly thanked her. Carmilla turned while Laura quickly changed, pulling the pants on under her dress and then quickly shimmying out of her dress and exchanging it for the shirt. She hastily tucked the shirt in and buckled her belt, and turned back to Carmilla.   
   
“Okay,” she said, straightening up again.   
            
Carmilla turned, and smirked a little, her eyes traveling up and down Laura’s body. Laura seemed to be relieved to be out of the cumbersome dress. “Leather suits you, cutie,” She said, and drew her sword, her smirk growing as she saw Laura blush. “First, show me what you know.”   
   
Laura’s blush deepened, but she rolled her eyes, tying her hair back in a hasty braid. She drew her sword as well, and lunged at Carmilla, swinging it in a wide arc.   
   
Carmilla easily deflected her blow with a flick of her wrist. They went at it for a while, Laura throwing everything she knew at Carmilla, and Carmilla deflecting and attacking alternately, observing Laura’s form and taking note of what she needed to improve on. And what she was good at.   
   
Carmilla signaled for Laura to stop after a while, and leaned on her sword like a cane, breathing a bit heavily. Laura was slightly disheveled, fire in her eyes.   
   
“You’re very good for the limited training you have, sweetheart,” Carmilla said with an amused grin. She always liked one on one training, but there was something about Laura that just amused her to no end. She rarely saw those she taught be so enthusiastic. “You hit hard, that’s good, but keep your sword tighter to your body, don’t swing so widely. It gives the enemy easier access to land their own blows.”   
            
They returned to their starting stances again, and Carmilla slowly introduced some of the drills she ran her own scouts through, meshing it with what Laura already knew. 

Laura was in her element. She felt the fire in her veins and she loved the power she felt in holding her sword, but most of all, she was amazed that Carmilla was treating her as an equal, teaching her what she taught her scouts and not talking to her like she was an idiot.   
   
Carmilla was impressed at how quickly Laura was picking everything up, but she wasn’t wholly surprised. She could see that Laura had a naturally affinity for the sword. She could see how much Laura loved it.   
   
“You learn quickly,” She said as they took a break, “I’m impressed.”   
   
Laura smiled, and was about to say something, when they were interrupted by a servant.   
   
“Your mid-day meal has been served in your chambers,” The servant said to Laura, and then hurried off to their next task.   
   
Laura paused for a moment, and then turned to Carmilla. “Hungry?” She smiled.   
   
“I could eat,” Carmilla said with a tired smile.   
   
Carmilla got up from where she was leaning against the wall, and followed Laura to her quarters. They were silent as they walked, both tired from training for several hours, but Laura had a spring in her step despite her tiredness. She loved the power she felt in her tired limbs, and she was really liking these new clothes. She mostly wore dressed back in Rohan, and these was far more comfortable to move around in.  

And they smelled nice. Like leather and wood smoke.   
   
\-------  
   
Back in Laura’s quarters, the two of them sat down at the table by the window, having taken off their sword belts. On the table in front of them sat a spread of meats and cheeses, vegetables and bread, and a pitcher of ale.   
   
Laura’s stomach grumbled loudly as she poured ale for both of them, and she blushed slightly at Carmilla’s chuckle.   
   
“Hungry, I see,” Carmilla said with a smirk, taking a piece of cheese from the pewter plate.   
   
“A bit,” Laura said, breathing out a laugh. Laura took a long drink of ale and sat back with a tired sigh. 

“So, why are you so interested in fighting?” Carmilla asked before biting into a cherry tomato. “Being a Princess I assumed you would be more interested in politics,”   
   
Laura bristled, but tamped it down. “I want to fight for my people,” She said, shrugging as she speared a piece of meat with her knife. “What’s wrong with that? I mean, _you’re_ a Captain. I’m not scared of death.”   
   
Carmilla hummed in agreement, her eyes soft as she watched Laura eat. She paused a moment. “What are you afraid of?”  
   
Laura looked up at her, surprised by the question. There was no threat behind Carmilla’s eyes though, only curiosity, and concern. “A cage,” Laura said after a minute. “people expect me to stay behind from the battle and hide, keep thing prepared for when the men return, do women’s duties, but it feels suffocating,” Laura said, vehemence in her voice.   
   
Carmilla nodded, and they both fell silent for a while, quietly eating.   
   
“I could continue to teach you,” Carmilla said, “if you wanted.”   
   
Laura’s head shot up, and she stared at Carmilla. “Really?” She finally managed to get out.   
   
Carmilla nodded. “We have time before the enemies reach us,” She said, “I’ll teach you whatever I can.”   
            
“I-” Laura started, but stopped again, a bit flabbergasted. “Thank you. That...means a lot.”   
   
Carmilla smiled a little and shrugged. “I can see this means a lot to you.”   
   
Laura smiled a little and nodded.   
   
Conversation soon turned towards the war, and what had happened at Osgiliath. Carmilla explained in greater detail how the ambush had happened, and Laura found herself coiling with tension at her description.  

The orcs had come from the great river Anduin on barges, silently in the night. Carmilla’s forces been prepared for an attack by land, but their error in judgment had made itself known when the soldier to first see the orcs was shot down by an arrow on the battlements. 

Carmilla had lost friends in the battle, the haunted look in Carmilla’s eyes plain to Laura. Oddly, it made Laura ache, and it fueled her anger for Lilita even more.  
   
“Thank you for saying what you did at dinner last night,” Carmilla said after a period of silence. “It was kind of a stupid thing to do, but I appreciate it.”   
   
Laura gave Carmilla a mock glare, but reached out and touched her hand all the same. “I was just telling the truth,” She shrugged. “And besides, I don’t think the war is going to last much longer. I met some people before leaving to come here. One of the, Danny, She’s amazing. She’s going to change a lot.”   
   
//  
   
Carmilla kept her word, and over the next week, Carmilla met with Laura daily after training with her own scouts, and ran Laura through drills, teaching her new techniques, meshing them with the ones Laura already knew. She was impressed with Laura’s vast improvement over such a short period of time. Incredibly impressed.   
   
She also found that she just...liked spending time with the Rohan Princess. She was a ball of sunshine in this dark time, usually smiling, despite the fire in her eyes, and Carmilla had been craving such a person. As much as she loved Gondor, it had been a long time since the city was...happy. The city had been in a state of hushed sorrow for so long, and it was suffocating. But then Laura arrived, and it was like this beam of light had fallen on the city. Carmilla found herself mesmerized.   
   
Laura found herself, strangely, happier than she’d been in years. Even with the looming threat of war, Laura felt useful. Like she was doing something that mattered, for once in her life. She was thriving on Carmilla’s training, and her presence. Every day they’d train, and afterwards, they shared meals together. Whether it’d be in Laura’s quarters, or Carmilla’s, they have dinner or lunch together, both exhausted after hours of training. She’d never met someone like her. Laura was having a hard time puzzling her out, this quiet captain who really had no business training her or even being around her, but was doing so anyway. All she knew was that she was happiest in her presence.   
   
//  
   
“Rohan is ready to ride, if you would only call on them,” Perry said, standing in front of Lilita. Her seemingly endless patience was beginning to run thin. “With their help, Gondor has a chance of surviving Mordor’s armies.”    
   
“Do you think the eyes of the white tower are blind, Periannath?” Lilita asked incredulously. “Théoden is weak, and so is his army. The world of men is over, we should be preparing for the end.”    
   
“Théoden doesn’t ride alone,” Perry said, eyes hard.   
   
“Oh yes,” Lilita said with a poisonous grin. “I’m well aware of the woman who rides with Théoden, and I will tell you now,” Her face soured, lips curling in a snarl, “I will not bow to this ranger from the North! The rule of Gondor is mine!”   
   
\-------  
   
Laura paused as she swung her sword, hearing someone call her name. Carmilla also stopped, and looked behind Laura.   
   
“Your Witch friend is here, cutie,” Carmilla said, sheathing her sword and running her fingers through her hair. She went over to the wall where a stoneware pitcher and two cups sat, and poured herself some water.   
   
“Hi Perry,” Laura said cheerfully, sheathing her sword as well, but her expression grew worried as she saw the look of frustration on Perry’s face. “What’s wrong?”   
   
“I have a job for you,” Perry said, pulling Laura aside and talking in a hushed voice. “Lilita is useless. She won’t call on your father for help and is convinced that the war is already lost. She is quite possibly the most bull-headed woman I’ve ever met,”   
   
“What?” Laura said, feeling her stomach drop out. “We can’t just lay down and take it, we can’t just give up--”   
   
“Laura,” Perry said, cutting her off with an amused smile. She knew she took Laura along for a reason, the little spitfire. “We’re not going to. We just have to go over Lilia’s head,”   
   
“What can I do?” Laura asked determinedly.   
   
“Leave your sword and come with me, it shouldn’t take long,” Perry said.   
   
Laura nodded, and trotted back to Carmilla. “I have to help Perry with something, but I’ll be back quick,” she said, unbuckling her sword belt and leaning it up against the wall. “Wait for me? Unless you have something else you have to do, of course, I don’t want to keep you from anything--”   
   
Carmilla grabbed one of Laura’s flailing hands. “I’ll wait, sweetheart,” She said with a chuckle. “I don’t mind,”   
Laura blushed, embarrassed at her own babbling, and nodded. “Thanks, Carm,” She hesitated for a moment before pressing a kiss to Carmilla’s cheek, and then scurried off after Perry.  
   
Carmilla watched her go, feeling a flutter in her stomach at the kiss. She smiled to herself and touched her cheek briefly as she sat down on a nearby bench and pulled her book from her satchel.  
   
\------  
   
“What do you need me to do?” Laura asked, hurrying along the white cobblestone road beside Perry.  
   
“There’s a beacon,” Perry explained, her staff clicking against the stone every other step. “It’s supposed to be lit only by the order of the Stewardess, but that will never happen. There are beacons situated along the mountain range, all the way to Rohan. I need you to light it.”  
   
“I can do that,” Laura nodded.  
   
“The beacon is up high, guarded by soldiers, you’ll have to climb,” Perry said hurriedly. “But if I remember correctly, Théoden mentioned years ago that you have a knack for climbing things you shouldn’t.”  
   
Laura blushed slightly, embarrassed. Her dad had had to yell at her to get down from the thatched roof of Meduseld once or twice when she was little.   
   
Perry slowed to a stop at the base of a stone tower that connected to one of the upper levels.  
   
“It’s at the top of this tower,” Perry said, taking Laura’s cloak. “There should be a pan of oil and a small torch hanging over the pile of wood. I’ll keep watch from here.”  
   
Laura nodded, and, eternally grateful that she was in pants, began scaling the wall. Normally, her small size annoyed her more than anything, but at times like this, she was grateful for it. She easily scurried up the cut stones, wedging the toes of her boots and her fingers into the gaps.  
   
She soon hauled herself up onto the platform, but stayed crouched down, out of sight of the guards on the other side. She peeked around the corner of the pile of wood, and watched the guards for a moment, and when she saw an opportunity, she scrambled onto the pile of wood and overturned the pan of oil, dropped the torch onto it, and scrambled off the wood.   
   
As she climbed down the wall again, she heard the alarmed cries of the guards, but it was too late. The oil had caught on fire in a split second, and most of the wood was already consumed by flames.  
   
She grinned, triumphant, and tried not to trip on her way down.  
   
\-------  
   
Carmilla looked up from her book, hearing a commotion coming from a ways down the road, and as she sat up from where she was lying on the bench, she caught sight of a pillar of black smoke rising from the beacon tower.  
   
She grinned, shaking her head. “You are something else, cupcake,” she murmured to herself.  
   
//  
   
“Cupcake?”  
Laura jumped slightly, snapping from her thoughts. “What?” She asked. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”  

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Carmilla said with a soft smirk. She reached forward and squeezed Laura’s hand briefly. “Where were you? You looked far away.”  
   
The two of them were sitting on the balcony off of Carmilla’s quarters, overlooking the mountains. A picked-at spread of meats and cheese and bread lay before them, and two mugs of tea. They’d been taking a day’s break from training, but Laura had still gone looking for Carmilla, missing her company. Turns out, Carmilla had been looking for her as well.  
   
“I just miss my friends, and my family,” Laura said, ducking her head a little. “I’ve never been away from them this long.”  
   
“Tell me about them?” Carmilla asked, watching her with soft eyes. It had only been two weeks since Laura had arrived in Gondor, but Carmilla could feel her affection for the Rohan Princess growing rapidly, if the warmth she felt in her chest whenever she saw her was any indication.

“My dad is finally better again,” Laura said, playing with a loose thread on her dress. “His advisor, Theo, was controlled by Saruman the White. He had his hooks in him for so long...but he’s finally himself again. My little brother, Kirsch,” Laura chuckled to herself. “He’s a little dim sometimes, but he has such a good heart. He’ll be a good King.”  
   
Carmilla quirked an eyebrow. “King?” She asked, “But you’re the oldest, no?”  
   
Laura shrugged. “Tradition dictates that it passes to him,” Carmilla rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed at that. “I don’t mind so much,” Laura added. “I don’t really want to be Queen, and I know he’ll do a good job.”  
   
“Mm,” Carmilla hummed, nodding. “Who else?”  
   
“A week before I arrived here, Perry, Danny, JP, and LaFontaine arrived at Meduseld. I haven’t known them long but it’s been years since we’ve seen new faces in Rohan. It was nice to hear new stories, talk to new people,” Laura smiled a little, glancing up at Carmilla. She reached forward and took one of the fruit tarts from the plate, and broke it in half. “Danny doesn’t talk much, but when she does, she tells the most amazing stories,” her smile faded, and she sighed. “I’m worried about them too. Everything’s so dangerous, I don’t want them to get hurt.”  
     
Carmilla swallowed, feeling a pang in her chest. “You’ll see them soon,” She said, hoping she sounded reassuring. “They sound strong, I’m sure they’ll make it here alright.” She wanted nothing more than to take Laura’s hand, or hold her until she didn’t feel so hurt.  
   
“You’re probably right,” Laura said smiling a little as her eyes drifted back to Carmilla. Laura found herself, not for the first time, perplexed at Carmilla’s existence. Laura couldn’t figure out how such a kind, funny and caring woman had come from a woman like Lilita Morgan.  
   
//  
   
Several days later, Laura and Perry were in Gondor’s great library, pouring over a map of the city.

The library was massive, holding written works from all across Middle-Earth. The library was surprisingly dark, considering the brightness of the rest of the city, the only light among the shelves and stacks coming from the many candles and fireplaces that sat at every few shelves to ward off the chill.

Laura jumped suddenly, but then grinned, when she heard a voice behind her.  
   
“Doing important work, I see,” Carmilla said cheekily, laying a hand on Laura’s shoulder.  
   
“Hey, Carm,” Laura grinned as she turned around and wrapped her arms around Carmilla’s neck in a hug.  
   
Carmilla paused slightly, but hugged her back after a moment. The hugs were new. She liked it. “Feel like training?” She asked, “I have the afternoon free.”  
   
Laura looked to Perry and went to speak just as the doors to the library opened again. In strode Danny, flanked by JP, Mel and LaFontaine, all four looking travel-worn and a little worse for wear, certainly in need of a proper meal, a good night’s rest, and definitely a bath, but alive and well, nonetheless.  
   
“Danny?” Laura cried, and ran past Carmilla, throwing her arms around Danny’s middle, who let out a gasp at the impact.  
   
“Hey,” Danny grinned, hugging her back. “You guys sent a signal?”  
   
“We did,” Laura said, running forward to hug LaFontaine and JP as well. “Is my dad with you? Kirsch?” Once she let go of them, she threw herself at Mel, who, with practiced ease hinting at years of this kind of greeting, caught her around the middle.  
   
“Just us for now, Hollis,” Mel said, patting Laura’s back.  
   
“Théoden is two days behind us,” LaFontaine said, running a hand through their short, fiery hair.  
   
Carmilla was silent as she watched them, feeling a pit in her stomach grow.  
   
“JP, LaF and I went to the Dwimorberg, and then rejoined your father’s army at Edoras,” Danny began.  
   
“The Dead Mountain?” Perry asked, siting up straight.  
   
Danny nodded. “I’ve recruited the Dead Army, they will come when I call.” She said. “I have convinced Sauron that I have the ring. We have a few days to prepare, and by that time, the Rohirrim will be here, and the Army of the Dead will join us.”   
   
“Oh my gosh,” Laura sighed, a little overwhelmed, but then nodded, steeling herself. “We’ll be ready.”  
   
“I should go,” Carmilla said, heading towards the door.  
   
“Wait, Carm,” Laura said, stepping towards her. “We were going to spar?”  
   
“Spar?” Danny asked, confused.  
   
“You catch up with your friends, cupcake,” Carmilla said with a halfhearted smirk.  
   
Laura went to say something, but Danny cut her off. “Thank you...?"  
   
“Carmilla,” Carmilla supplied stiffly. “Captain Carmilla.”  
   
“Thank you, Captain Carmilla,” Danny said, “I would like to catch up with Laura.”  
   
Carmilla nodded to both of them, and hurried from the room, the pit in her stomach growing into a gaping hole. She knew she had a slim chance with Laura, but seeing the way they embraced...it was clear that Laura felt something for the redhead. And why shouldn’t she? Laura had spoken highly of Danny any time she was mentioned, and she was to be the Queen, the heir of Elendil. Why wouldn’t Laura want the Queen over a disgraced Captain?  
   
Laura watched Carmilla leave, feeling an unpleasant tightness in her stomach.   
   
“Come with me,” Perry said, beckoning to the four travelers, “I’m sure we can find some to get a few rooms ready for you three.”  
   
“You go ahead,” Danny said, “I want to talk to Laura.”  
   
Laura looked back to Danny after the others left, despite her heavy heart. “I’m glad you three are alright,” She said, “I’ve been worried.”  
   
“I’ve been worried, too,” Danny said sitting in the chair Perry had been sitting in. “You’re sparring?” She asked, “With a Captain? Has she hurt you?”  
   
Laura gaped at Danny. “What?” She asked, dumbfounded.  
   
“Her skill must be much greater than yours, if she’s a Captain,” Danny said. “She could easily hurt you. And your father didn’t want you fighting.”  
   
“We’ve been over this,” Laura spat coldly, hurt. “I’ve learned to fight whether my dad wants me to or not, and I _will_ be fighting with my people when Sauron’s forces march on this city. And _no_ , she hasn’t hurt me, Carm would never. I can’t believe you would even suggest that, I’m not a child that you have to look after, Danny,” and she turned towards the door and left, hurt and furious.  
   
\-------  
   
“You asked to see me?” Carmilla asked stiffly, standing before her mother’s seat in the throne room. She’d changed into her black velvet hauberk and chainmail, knowing her mother expected nothing but the utmost formality. Her circlet sat on her brow, her sword at her hip.  
   
Lilita had summoned her not long after she left Laura and Danny in the library. What she wouldn’t give to be sparring with Laura right now.  
   
“I did,” Lilita said between messy bites of roast boar. She sat alone at a table in front of her seat at the foot of the throne, in front of an impressive spread for just one person. “I have a task for you.”  
   
“Yes?” Carmilla prompted.  
   
“You will take your troops, and you will take Osgiliath back. You will leave tomorrow at daybreak.”  
   
Carmilla was silent, staring at her mother as her mother ate, unbothered by the weight of her request. “Osgiliath is overrun, mother,” She said, hoping Lilita couldn’t hear the croak in her voice. “Trying to take it back would be a waste of soldiers and resources, especially with Sauron’s forces gathering to storm the city.”  
   
Lilita stopped eating, and looked up at her daughter. “Osgiliah is our last hope,” She snarled. “You will take back Osgiliath at dawn.”  
   
Carmilla sighed, feeling a heavy weight sinking in her chest. “Yes, mother,” She said, and turned to leave, but paused and turned to Lilita again. “You wish that I had been the one to die rather than Will, don’t you?”  
   
Lilita stared ahead, not looking at Carmilla, and took a long drink of wine from her goblet. “I do wish that,” She said finally.  
   
Carmilla ignored the stinging in the corners of her eyes, the weight in her chest growing heavier. “Well,” She breathed, “I’ll do what I can in his place.” She swallowed. “If I survive, think better of me, mother,” She said quietly, and slowly walked from the throne room, her footsteps echoing off the barren, white stone walls.  
   
Behind her, she heard Lilita speak. “That will depend on whether you return victorious or not.”  
   
\-------  
   
Hours later, Carmilla woke up in a cold sweat, her chest heaving, the sight of a great wave still echoing into her mind. She took a deep breath and ran a hand down her face as she climbed out of bed and shuffled over to the basin that stood on the table across the room. She splashed her face with cold water and ran her wet hands through her hair, sighing.  
   
She hadn’t had such a vivid nightmare in a very long time. The image of the great wave as it crested over the walls of Gondor, consuming the city. Consuming Laura.  
   
Carmilla clenched her hands, willing them to stop shaking, and then reached for her boots to pull them on. She wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep like this. She needed to move. Walk. Do something.  
   
Carmilla left her room and wandered the dark streets of Gondor, sparsely lit by torches, and soon found herself wandering towards the guest chambers on the level below the Citadel. 

She sighed, unsurprised that her feet had led her towards Laura. 

She stood outside Laura’s door for a moment, before softly knocking. She heard a soft scuffling on the other side of the door, and soon, the door opened to reveal a tired looking Laura dressed in a loose nightgown, her hair braided.  
   
“Carm?” She asked, surprised.  
   
“I’m sorry,” Carmilla said, voice scratchy from sleep. “Did I wake you?”  
   
“No, I was up,” Laura said, shaking her head. She reached out and laid a hand on Carmilla’s arm. “You look upset, what’s wrong?”  
   
Carmilla swallowed, uncomfortable. “Can’t sleep,” She said finally, “Nightmare.”  
   
Laura’s eyes softened, and she took Carmilla by the hand and pulled her into her room, closing the door behind them. “Why don’t you sit?” Laura said, gesturing to her bed. She walked over to the table and poured some water from the pitcher into a stoneware cup, and handed it to Carmilla. “I can’t sleep either.”  
   
Carmilla looked up at her after taking a drink of water. “Why can’t you sleep?”  
   
“Jitters I guess,” Laura shrugged. “The battle is getting closer, everything’s moving so quickly. I’m not afraid of death,” She said echoing the words she spoke the second time they met. “But I’m worried for my friends, for my dad. For you,” She looked up at Carmilla and smiled a little. “Everyone else keeps telling me to give up, give up, give up. To stay safe. I haven’t learned enough to protect the people I care about but I’m going to try anyway.”  
   
Carmilla reached forward with her free hand and gripped Laura’s gently. “I admire that about you,” She said. She shook her head, smiling faintly. “I’ve never seen someone learn so quickly and you’re far more passionate than many of the soldiers I’ve trained.”  
   
Laura blushed slightly and squeezed Carmilla’s hand back. Her eyes grew worried though, seeing that the tired, haunted look still hadn’t left Carmilla’s eyes. “You said you had a nightmare?” She asked, not letting go of Carmilla’s hand as she scooted closer to her.  
   
Carmilla’s expression darkened a bit. “Uh, yeah,” She said quietly, and took a breath.

“What did you see?” Laura asked gently.  
   
Carmilla was quiet for a moment, before speaking. “I saw a great wave,” She said, “climbing over green hills and the walls of the city. I stood away from the wall, but you were on the edge, you turned to look at me, but I couldn’t move. I woke up just before the darkness pulled you under.”  
   
Laura’s eyes widened. “That...that sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.”  
   
“The fall of Númenor,” Carmilla said quietly, “the Valar created the great city of Númenor for the race of men as a paradise. Fearful of death and twisted by Sauron they made war upon the Valar demanding the immortal gift that was bestowed upon the Elves. Only Elendil and his sons remained faithful. The Valar flooded it as punishment when men turned against them. It’s a nightmare I’ve had since I was a girl, but never like that.”

“Do you believe that darkness will swallow the world?” Laura asked, eyes earnest.  
   
“For Middle-Earth, for you, no,” She said, shaking her head. “I can’t say the same for me.”  
   
Laura’s eyes grew alarmed, and she laid her other hand on Carmilla’s arm. “What do you mean, for you?”  
   
“I’ve been commanded to ride out at dawn with my company to take back Osgiliath,” Carmilla said, heart heavy.  
   
“What?!” Laura gasped, jumping to her feet. “You can’t! Carmilla that’s insane, you said yourself that it’s overrun, it’s not worth risking your life!”  
   
“Cupcake, I have to,” Carmilla said, looking at Laura wearily. “Mother ordered me, I don’t have a choice. And if I succeed in taking Osgiliath back it’ll give us another point of defense.”  
   
“Carmilla, please don’t,” Laura begged, looking desperate. “It’s not worth your life or the lives of your scouts to take back a crumbling ruin of a city.”  
   
“I don’t have a choice,” Carmilla repeated, looking defeated.  
   
Laura swallowed hard and wrapped her arms around Carmilla’s neck, hugging her tightly.  
   
Carmilla hugged back gently, breathing her in. She smelled of leather and something floral, and she idly wished she could stay like this forever.  
   
“I should let you sleep,” Carmilla said, reluctantly pulling away.  
   
“Wait, no,” Laura said, still holding onto Carmilla’s arms. “Stay? I’m wide awake, and the company would be nice. And you still seem kind of upset, and I don’t want you to be alone if you’re upset.” Laura bit her lip for a moment but then her eyes widened. “Unless you want to be alone! Then that’s totally fine, I can—”  
   
“I’d like that,” Carmilla said with a small smile. “Very much.”  
   
Laura grinned, blushing slightly. “You can lay down if you want,” She said, “you look tired.”  
   
Carmilla nodded and kicked off her boots, and lay down on Laura’s bed as Laura placed the empty cup on the table, and then laid down beside her.  
   
Laura felt more awake than she had when Carmilla had first appeared at her door, her insides buzzing at having Carmilla so close.  
   
“Tell me about the legends of your people?” She asked, wanting to fill the silence, because if she didn’t, she feared she might do something stupid like kiss Carmilla.             
   
“If you tell me the legends of yours,” Carmilla said, rolling on her side to look at Laura. “I’ve traveled a lot, but never to Rohan.”  
   
“I will,” Laura grinned.  
   
\-------  
   
Carmilla woke to sunlight streaming in through the open window, bathing her and Laura in soft light. They’d fallen asleep as they talked about legends and myths, and Carmilla’s heart ached as she watched Laura, fast asleep on her chest.  

Laura’s sun-bleached hair was sleep-tousled and shone golden in the morning light, her lip slightly parted as she breathed. Her hand loosely gripping Carmilla’s shirt. 

She brushed Laura’s hair from her forehead with trembling fingers, wanting to sear the image of Laura’s peacefully sleeping face into her memory.  
   
She expected this would be the last time she would see it.   
   
The last time she would see Laura.   
   
She just wanted to feel her, warm and breathing and alive, against her, for a little longer.

After some time, Carmilla carefully moved Laura from her chest and settled her gently on the bed before she sat up and ran her hands through her hair. She reached down and pulled on her boots, and then turned to Laura once again.   
   
She leaned down and carefully pressed a soft kiss to Laura’s forehead, and stroked her hair.   
   
“Forgive me,” Carmilla whispered, and placed something on the pillow next to Laura’s head. With a last brush of her cheek, Carmilla turned and quietly left the room.   
   
Carmilla swallowed the tears that desperately wanted to fall as she walked back to her room in the early morning light.   
   
If she were to die at Osgiliath, she was glad she had at least gotten one night with Laura.  
   
Gotten to see the dawn light spill onto her beautiful face at least once.  
   
\-------  
   
Laura woke to the sound of trumpets.  
   
She groggily blinked, and reached out for Carmilla, but found her bed empty and cold.   
   
Her heart leapt into her throat when she put the pieces together.   
   
Laura went to leap from the bed, but paused when her hand landed on cool metal. She lifted her hand and found the fine silver chain Carmilla always wore, the small, silver tree of Gondor charm hanging from it.   
   
“No,” Laura whispered, tears forming in her eyes. She griped the chain and ran to her balcony. She looked to the main gate of the city to see a procession of armored soldiers filtering out of the gate on horseback, Carmilla at their head. “No,” Laura sobbed, her heart breaking. “CARMILLA!!”   
   
Below, a tear slid down Carmilla’s cheek as she heard the faint call of her name from a familiar voice.   
   
\-------  
   
Laura’s head shot up as she heard a commotion by the main gate.  
   
“Open the gate! Open the gate now!” One of the wall guards shouted frantically.  
   
Laura sprinted down the white cobblestone streets, weaving between merchants and horses until she reached the gate. It’d been hours since Carmilla had left with her company, and Laura had been on edge and worried out of her mind since she watched Carmilla ride through the gates.  
   
Laura pushed her way through the crowd, and her heart nearly stopped at the sight before her.  
   
Carmilla’s horse trudged through the gates, her saddle empty, and behind her was Carmilla, unconscious, her foot caught in the stirrup and an arrow protruding from her armor at her shoulder. Her helmet was missing her hair damp and bloody, the grime of battle smeared on her face.  
   
“No, Carm!” Laura cried, and went to rush to her side, but was caught around the middle by a guard.  
   
“Get her on a stretcher!” Another guard bellowed, “The Stewardess requests that she’d brought to the Citadel!”  
   
Behind Laura, the guards were screaming for the gates to be closed. Far off in the distance, fires could be seen steadily moving closer.  
   
Sauron’s army had left Mordor.  
   
What many in the city had thought to be far-off thunder was actually hundreds of thousands of feet marching across Pelennor Fields, siege towers pulled by trolls marching among them. War drums carried by more hulking, grey-skinned mountain tolls, and the chanting of the marching orcs, a great rabble cast in shadow from the storm clouds above—the work of Sauron to ease his army’s passing—added to the distant rumbling.  
   
Laura wasn’t paying attention though, as the guards rushed to the front wall, dragging timber and hammers to reinforce the gate as other hauled buckets of arrows to the battlements. As soon as Carmilla was untangled from the stirrup and placed on a stretcher, Laura bolted after the guards who were hurriedly carrying her up to the Citadel.  
   
She followed them, somehow always a step behind, until they burst through the doors to the throne room, Laura hot on their heels.

Lilita rose from her seat at the foot of the throne and rushed towards Carmilla, kneeling beside her.

“How the strong fall,” Lilita whispered, voice cracking as she leaned over her daughter, touching Carmilla’s forehead. She looked up, crazed eyes unseeing as tears poured from them. “My line has ended!” She wailed, staggering back from Carmilla’s side to the entrance of the throne room, and her eyes widened at the sight before her. Beyond the courtyard, she could see the black mass that was Sauron’s army marching closer, flickering torches dotted throughout, and the booming of their war drums and the orc’s Black Speech chant.  
   
With Lilita out of the way, Laura ran to Carmilla’s side and fell to her knees, taking Carmilla’s face between her gentle hands.  
   
“Please don’t be dead, please, please don’t be dead,” Laura begged, one hand moving down to Carmilla’s neck in search of a pulse. Carmilla’s skin was still warm, if a bit clammy, and relief flooded Laura as she felt a weak, but unmistakable pulse beneath her fingers. “She--she’s not dead!” She cried out, looking to Lilita. “My Lady, she needs medicine, she’s alive!”   
   
Lilita snarled, whipping around toward Laura, her heavy robes billowing around her. “Get away from her!” Lilita shrieked grabbing Laura by the neck of her cloak and digging her towards the door to the throne room. “You will not take my daughter from me!”  
   
Laura squirmed and fought but Lilita’s grip was like iron, and soon she was thrown out the door, and rolled down the stairs. Laura gasped for air, finding herself on her back, but she caught a few words before the doors were slammed shut.  
   
 _Pyre...halls of the stewards_...  
   
The tombs.  
   
Laura scrambled to her feet and ran off to the lower levels in search of Perry or Mel, anyone who could help.  
   
Fate seemed to smile on Laura for once that night. She soon came across Mel, who was on the wall, leading the archers in releasing volley after volley of arrows at the great trolls pushing the siege towers. The siege towers were getting closer every second, the rabble and screaming of the orcs getting louder and louder.

“Mel!” Laura cried, running to her friend. “Mel!!”  
   
Mel turned around. “Hollis?” She called back, and was alarmed by the terrified look on Laura face. “What’s wrong?!” She called over the noise of battle.  
   
“It’s Carmilla!” Laura cried, grabbing Mel’s arm, “Lilita’s lost her mind, she's going to burn Carmilla alive!!”  
   
“Oh gods,” Mel breathed.  
   
Mel darted after Laura, the two of them sprinting as fast as they could up to the Citadel, and down the path to the tombs, carved out of the mountain behind the Citadel. Laura’s heart was pounding out of her chest, her mind spinning out of control as she pushed her body to get to Carmilla in time.  
   
Mel ran ahead of Laura as they reached the doors to the tombs, and threw them open. Two guards charged forward, but Mel easily disarmed one, and slashed at the other with her sword, and down he went.  
   
Laura rushed forward, ducking under Mel’s arm, and stopped short at the sight before her.  
   
Carmilla was laid out on a stone pyre, piled high with, and surrounded by bundles of sticks. She was changed into her ceremonial black velvet hauberk and chainmail, her leather pants, her face having been washed and her hair braided. She would have looked peaceful if Laura didn’t know she was alive, and if Lilita wasn’t standing over her, drenched in oil and holding a torch. Upon second glance, Carmilla was drenched in oil as well, the slick substance causing her skin to glisten in the flickering light from the torches.  
   
“No tomb of stone will suit us, Lilita and Carmilla, no long, slow sleep,” Lilita said feverishly, staring Laura down. “Gondor is lost, we shall burn with our city,” Lilita’s eyes were crazed, voice rough. “Better to die sooner than late, for die we must,”   
   
“She’s alive, she’s not dead!” Laura cried, rushing forward again. “She’s not dead!”

_“There is no victory,”_  Lilita grit out.               
   
Lilita dropped the torch as Mel charged the guards, and to Laura it seemed to fall in slow motion. 

Lilita’s robes went up in flames, the wood stacked around the pyre catching, obscuring Carmilla from view.  
   
“NO!” Laura screamed, barreling forward after Mel. Mel swung her sword at one of the guards, killing him. She snatched his staff from his hand as he fell, and whirled around, landing a blow on Lilita’s back, toppling her from the pyre. Laura could hear Lilita’s wails as she fled the tombs, flames consuming her, but Laura paid no mind to her.  
   
Laura reached for a bundle of sticks that hadn’t caught fire yet, and ripped them away, and hoisted herself up onto the pyre. She scrambled up Carmilla’s body and shook her. “Carmilla!” She cried, “Carmilla, please!”  
   
Carmilla wasn’t waking up.  
   
Laura looked around them frantically, watching as the flames drew closer.  
   
“Hollis come on, roll her off!” Mel called, fighting off the other guards.  
   
“Right, right, roll off,” Laura gasped, the smell of burning wood and oil choking her.  
   
She gripped the front of Carmilla’s hauberk and swung herself off the pyre with a mighty cry, pulling Carmilla off with her.  
   
They crashed to the floor in a heap, and Laura scrambled to right herself again. She rolled Carmilla onto her back and frantically slapped the flames out on Carmilla’s clothes with her bare hands before they could burn her, soot and sweat streaked across her face.  
   
“Carmilla,” Laura sniffled, the tears finally falling as she took Carmilla’s face between her hands. “Carmilla please.”  
   
Laura watched with bated breath as Carmilla’s dark eyes opened for a moment, and locked with Laura’s.  
   
 _“Carm,”_ Laura breathed, her heart skipping a beat, but it plummeted again as Carmilla’s eyes rolled back and her lids slipped closed again.  
   
“Laura, Laura come on, we need to get her to the houses of healing,” Mel said, shaking Laura from her trance.  
   
Laura nodded, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Mel had pulled the shield over that the guards had carried Carmilla in on, and Laura gently gripped Carmilla’s shoulders as Mel grabbed her ankles. Once Carmilla was situated on the shield, they hoisted her up and carried her out of the tombs as fast as they could.  
   
\-------

The doors to the houses of healing were thrown open as the guards saw Laura and Mel rushing towards them, Carmilla lying unconscious on the shield between them. Healers ran forward and helped them get Carmilla onto a cot, and stripped her of her burned and oil soaked clothes.  
   
Laura held Carmilla’s head in her lap as the healers examined her, stroking her hair and washing the oil from her face.   
   
“It’s the black breath,” the healer said in a hushed voice to the other.  
   
“What?” Laura asked looking up at them expectantly as she held the cool rag to Carmilla’s face.  
   
“The black breath,” one of the healers repeated, “She came into contact with the Witch King, one of the Nazgûl. She won’t likely wake should the battle go poorly,” The healer went to continue, but the two of them suddenly rushed off as a few wounded soldiers were brought in.  
   
Laura looked down at Carmilla, her heart shattering. She leaned forward, pressed her forehead to Carmilla’s chest as fresh tears spilled over.  
   
“Hollis, I’m...so sorry,” Mel said, laying a hand on Laura’s back.  
   
Laura pulled back and leaned up to kiss Carmilla’s forehead, and lingered a moment before she stood, pulling Carmilla’s sword from her scabbard, and gave Mel a weak smile before fleeing the houses of healing.  
   
//  
   
Laura rushed to the stables, eyes hard and almost unseeing.   
   
After leaving Carmilla in the houses of healing, she’d run to her room and quickly dressed in the armor she’d cobbled together from home and the Gondorian armory. The leather pants Carmilla had given her hugged her legs, the shirt she’d stolen from home tucked into them. She wore a green gambeson under the shining chainmail she’d stolen from the Gondorian armory, a pair of pauldrons that matched her leather breastplate cresting her shoulders, her tough, brown riding boots on her feet. Carmilla’s sword hung from her hip, her own abandoned on her bed.

The pendent Carmilla had left behind hung around her neck, tucked safely against her chest.  
   
Laura put her saddle on Felarof’s back, mechanically fastening the buckles and offering him his bridle, and then strapped on the armor for his neck.  
   
“We’re not coming back, Fel,” She murmured, feeding him half an apple.  
   
Laura stepped back and strapped on her helmet, one she’d taken from home that was embossed with the heraldry of her people, a horsehair mane mingling with her own wild, untamed hair that fell around her shoulders.  
   
She hoisted herself up into her saddle, slid her arm through the straps of her shield, and pated Felarof’s neck before gently kicking his sides, and they took off out of the stables, charging anyone who dared get in her way.  
   
Laura managed to slip out of the gate as foot soldiers filed out to meet the oncoming orcs. They hadn’t breached the inner-city wall yet, having only broken through the outer defensive wall.  
   
Felarof galloped towards the approaching Rohirrim, Laura slashing every orc from his back that got in her way.  
   
Soon, Laura reached the Rohirrim as Théoden was giving his rallying speech, and slipped into their ranks.  
   
“Spears!” Laura heard her father cry, and the first row of riders thrust their spears high over their heads, and he galloped along the line, his sword clanking against each spear.  
   
“Arise, riders of Théoden!” He continued, his voice echoing across the field. “Fell deeds await, fire and slaughter!” He turned his horse around and allowed in the opposite direction, still along the line. “Spears shall be shaken, shields splintered! A sword-day, a red day, as the sun rises!!” He stopped at the center and faced his people, standing up in his stirrups. “Ride now! Ride now! Ride for Gondor! Ride for ruin, and the world ending!” he screamed, and turned brandishing his sword in the air. “Death!!”  
   
“Death!!” The riders answered.  
   
“DEATH!!”  
   
“DEATH!!” The riders answered again, Laura screaming with them, holding Carmilla’s sword in the air.  
   
“RIDE, EORLINGAS!!"  
   
The Rohirrim charged forward, a sea of green cloaks on horseback, still screaming _death, death_ , and Laura screamed along with her brethren, a speck in the great wave of horses that was barreling towards the side of Sauron’s army.

The battle was a whirlwind.  
   
Laura slashed at every orc that came near, riding near others from Rohan to watch their back as she made it across the field. Felarof bayed and whinnied and kicked at orcs as Laura continued to jab and thrust, Carmilla’s sword feeling at home in her hand.  
   
Laura looked up suddenly, hearing the hellish, piercing screech of the Fell Beasts as the Nazgûl circled above. Her eyes hardened, Carmilla’s pendent weighing heavily on her chest, and she charged in the direction of the Witch King as he flew closer and closer to the ground.  
   
She was distracted though, as a great dust cloud rose across the field. She soon heard distant trumpeting, and through the dust emerged dozens of Oliphants.  
   
Easterlings.  
   
Each Oliphant was weighed down by huge saddles, each teeming with Easterlings dressed in black and red. One Easterling stood on the neck of each Oliphant, steering the beast with a massive set of reigns attached to each ear of the Oliphant, the riders ornamented with banners of black and red and gold, chanting in their native tongue. The Oliphant's massive tusks had sharpened sticks lashed to them, and they swept their great heads back and forth, taking out swaths of soldiers with each pass.  
   
A ways away from Laura, Kirsch paused and gripped his javelin, eyeing the Easterling who was steering the Oliphant at the head of the charge. Kirsch drew his arm back, and let his javelin fly with cry, and seconds later it buried itself in the Easterling’s chest with a satisfying thud.  
   
The Easterling fell from his place on the neck of the Oliphant and toppled off the side, the reigns still wrapped around his arm. The Oliphant let out a cry, the reign pulling hard on its ear, and it listed to the side, crashing into another of the great beasts, taking it down with it.  
   
Laura felt her heart leap, having seen Kirsch throw his javelin, and changed her course, yanking on Felarof’s reigns to steer him towards the Oliphants.

In the distance, she could heat her father screaming, “BRING IT DOWN, BRING IT DOWN, BRING IT DOWN!!"  
   
As she rode towards them, she snatched a sword from the hands of an orc who had been ready to bring it down on one of the rider’s heads, and kicked at Felarof’s flanks to get him to gallop faster. As they approached the Oliphant, Laura gripped a sword in each hand and held them out as she rode beneath the Oliphant, slashing at its legs.  
   
The Oliphant let out a pained wail as its knees buckled, and the screams of the men followed as their saddle was rocked. Laura rode forward and slashed the front legs, and the Elephant toppled over as it screamed, and the saddle crashed to the ground.

Laura tossed the orc sword and turned Felarof around just in time to see the Witch King and his Fell Beast land, its sleek, black serpentine body writhing as it screamed.   
   
Laura’s heart nearly stopped when she saw who stood before it.  
   
Théoden and the Witch King stood in a standoff until the Fell Beast’s armored head darted forward and screeched, its needle-like teeth latching onto Snowmane, Théoden’s horse, in a terrible bite.  
   
Snowmane let out a horrible wail and Laura’s world stopped as she watched the Fell Beast lift Snowmane and her master off the ground, and whipped them around before slamming them back into the dirt.  
   
“DAD!!” Laura screamed, galloping towards them as Snowmane stopped moving, Théoden trapped under her.  
   
 _“Feast on his flesh,”_ The Witch King hissed, encouraging his steed as it crept closer to Théoden and Snowmane.  
   
Laura leapt from Felarof’s back and ran forward, standing between her father and the Nazgûl. Laura could feel dread and despair seeping into her bones, darkness exuding from the Witch King like a fog, but she didn’t let it deter her.  
   
 _“I will kill you if you touch him,”_ Laura snarled, brandishing Carmilla’s sword, her shield strapped to her other arm.  
   
“Do not stand between a Nazgûl and his prey,” The Witch King warned, gauntlets clinking as he gripped the reigns of his Fell Beast.  
   
With a hellish screech, the Fell Beast jutted its head towards Laura, but she darted out of the way and turned, and with a feral cry she brought Carmilla’s sword down on its neck, and hacked until its head flew off, its body spasming, unseating its rider.  
   
Laura gasped for breath as the Witch King rose from his fallen steed, and turned to her, hefting his massive mourning star.  
   
 _“Die, now,”_ the Witch King hissed, and swung his great flail at Laura.  
   
Laura ducked and darted out of its way, the mourning star repeatedly digging into the dirt.  
   
Suddenly, she wasn’t so lucky.  
   
The Witch King’s mourning star struck her shield with a heavy blow, smashing it into splinters, and Laura’s arm with it.  
   
Laura let out a strangled cry of pain, holding her arm to her chest.  
   
 _“No man can kill me,”_   The Witch King rasped, towering over her like the wraith he was.   
   
            Laura grunted and desperately swung her sword, clipping his arm. The Witch King let out a piercing wail as his knees buckled, and Laura stood over him now, her vision blurred by pain, but her grip on her sword strong.  
   
“I am no man,” Laura said through gritted teeth, and with a triumphant cry, thrust the tip of Carmilla’s sword below the crown of the Witch King’s helm.  
   
Blinding light poured from the face of the Witch King and Laura yanked her sword back, a shock traveling up the blade. The Witch King’s armor crumpled, the Witch King shrieking and shrinking with it until there was only a pile of black robes and crumpled metal left.  
   
Finally, Laura’s knees buckled, the pain catching up to her. Slowly, she crawled around Snowmane’s still body, and collapsed beside Théoden.  
   
“Dad,” She croaked, pushing herself the last few inches so that she could hover over her father.  
   
Théoden’s eyes opened and he studied her for a moment, recognition dawning on his tired face.  
   
“I know your face,” He murmured finally, “Laura.”  
   
“I’m going to get you out of here,” Laura said, resting her good hand on his head. Tears fell free from her eyes from grief and pain and exhaustion, her voice raspy. “I’m going to save you.”  
   
“No,” Théoden sighed. “Laura, my body is broken. I go to the halls of my fathers...in whose mighty company, I do not yet know.”  
   
“Dad, no,” Laura sobbed, “please, no.”  
   
Théoden looked up at Laura suddenly, almost frantic. “Laura,” He gasped, but then his eyes lost focus and grew dull, the breath rushing from his body.  
   
 _“No,”_ Laura whimpered, resting her head on Théoden’s chest, her good hand clutching at his armor, her body shaking with sobs. _“please no, dad.”_  
   
Laura lost track of time, the pain and grief dulling her mind and her vision. The last thing she saw was a green, eerily glowing mass rushing across the field before everything faded to black.  
   
\-------  
   
Kirsch trudged along the battlefield, sword in hand. The battle was over, but the search for wounded but alive soldiers had just begun. His eyes frantically scanned the ground for familiar faces.  
   
Suddenly, he caught sight of familiar golden hair, and his heart plummeted to his stomach.  
   
Kirsch began running, sprinting towards the form on the ground ahead of him, begging every god that what he saw wasn’t true.  
   
As he got closer, he saw who it was.  
   
Laura was sprawled out in the dirt on her back, eyes closed, motionless. Her helmet was missing, one arm bent at a grotesque angle, her other hand gripping a sword.  
   
“NO!” He screamed, running faster, dropping his sword and helmet. “LAURA!!” He dropped to his knees beside her, carefully gathering her in his arms as he sobbed her name over and over. His breath caught though, when he saw her eyelids shift. Kirsch hastily pulled his glove off and felt her neck, and relief flooded through him when he felt a weak pulse.  
   
Kirsch looked around and found Felarof nearby, dutifully staying by his mistress, and called him over, hastily gathering Laura in his arms. He hauled himself onto Felarof’s back, holding Laura against his chest, and took off towards the crumbling walls of Minas Tirith.  
   
\-------  
   
Kirsch watched worriedly, sitting beside Danny, as Laura was laid on a stretcher beside Carmilla in the houses of healing.   
   
Mel was nearby, getting her shoulder patched up, but was still watching her best friend like a hawk as Danny leaned over Laura, examining her.   
   
“I need hot water, please,” Danny said to a passing healer, who nodded and bustled off to fetch it.   
   
Danny untied a small pouch from her belt and opened, it as she waited.   
   
“What’s that?” Kirsch asked, his voice rough and tired, but he refused to sleep or even clean up until he knew his sister was okay.   
   
“Kingsfoil,” Danny said. She looked up as the healer brought a kettle of hot water, and several mugs, and thanked her. “I have to make tea from it, and I need you to help me get them to drink it.”   
   
“What will it do?” Kirsch asked, apprehensive.   
   
“It’ll wake them up,” Danny explained as she filled two mugs with the hot water and then dropped a few pinches of Kingsfoil into each.   
   
They sat quietly for a while, waiting for the Kingsfoil to steep in the water. Soon, Danny nodded to Kirsch, who propped Laura, and after, Carmilla up, and helped Danny force them to drink it.   
   
//

The next day, what was left of the Fellowship, at least in Gondor, stood in the throne room.

JP stood beside the Stewardess’ seat, where sat LaFontaine instead of the late Stewardess. LaFontaine sat sideways in the black stone chair, their legs propped up on the arm of it as they puffed on their pipe. 

Danny, Kirsch, Mel and Perry stood with them, in serious discussion. 

“Do you know if Frodo is alive?” Danny asked Perry. Danny was looking ragged and a little beat up from the battle, her eyes betraying worry for her friends, and for Laura, who still had yet to wake.

Perry sighed, leaning on her staff. “I imagine things would be much worse if he were dead,” She said, tucking a few curled behind her ear. “But no, I don’t think he is dead.” 

Danny nodded, looking to the others. “Perry says that Carmilla mentioned seeing them in Ithilien, which means they’re headed for the stairs of Cirith Ungol, by Minas Morgul.”

“What can we do from here?” Asked Kirsch, “We have to do something,” 

“We can’t defeat Sauron’s forces, they’re too big and we’ve lost too many soldiers,” Danny said, pacing.

“You should have kept those ghost soldiers,” LaFontaine said through a puff of tobacco smoke. “Very handy. And I wanted to find out why they could actually kill things, being non-corporeal.” 

JP smirked, amused at his friend.

“What if we didn’t have to defeat all of them,” Mel said, stepping forward, “What if we just drew the Great Eye towards us, instead of them?”

“A distraction,” Perry said, smiling. “A wonderful idea.”

“Exactly,” Mel said, nodding. “Empty Mordor of Sauron’s army, and give Frodo and Sam enough time make it to Mount Doom.” 

LaFontaine mulled it over for a moment, and then nodded. “Certainty of death? Small chance of success?” They shrugged. “What are we waiting for?”

//  
   
The first thing Carmilla heard when she woke up was cheering and laughter.  
   
She was lying on something soft, but a bit ridged. Her head hurt, and all she could see was a grayish stone ceiling above her. It didn’t feel like her bed. Or her quarters. Her eyes slowly traveled around the room, noticing other people, and when she turned her head, she felt a jolt run through her chest when she saw Laura, lying unconscious on a stretcher beside her.  
   
“Easy,” Came a gentle voice from above, and Carmilla suddenly felt a warm hand on her shoulder.  
   
Carmilla looked up again, to her left this time, to find Mel and Danny sitting beside her.  
   
“Laura—” She choked out, but Mel shushed her.  
   
“Laura’s fine,” Mel said hurriedly. “She’s fine. She’s just healing, so she needs to sleep.”  
   
“What happened?” Carmilla said, and coughed a bit. She winced, the cough causing her shoulder to throb dully.  
   
“We won, Karnstein,” Mel said with a grin. “The war’s over. Sauron is dead.”  
   
Over the next hour, Danny and Mel detailed everything that had happened since Carmilla’s horse had dragged her back from Osgiliath. Mel recounted, with much pride in Laura, what had happened in the tombs, and how Laura jumped into the flames to save her. Neither of them had seen first-hand what Laura had done on the battlefield, but they narrated a witness’s story of how Laura had slain the Witch King.  
   
“Nobody can explain how she killed the Witch King,” Mel said, running a hand through her curls. It’d been days since the battle, her armor no longer needed, and she wore a simple pair of pants and a loose green shirt.  
   
Carmilla winced as she made to sit up, closing her eyes from the struggle. Once she was upright, Danny handed her a bowl of boar and vegetable stew from the cooking fire just outside. It’d been days since she’d eaten solid food. When she opened her eyes again she looked down beside her cot and noticed her scabbard was empty.

“Where’s my sword?” She asked, worried.  
   
“It’s next to Laura’s cot,” Danny said distractedly, picking at her own stew.  
   
“She took my sword?” Carmilla asked.  
   
“Yeah,” Mel said. “When the healer said you might not wake up, she took your sword and ran off.”  
   
“That’s how,” Carmilla sighed, closing her eyes for a moment as she let the clay bowl warm her hands. “My sword is made of Númenorian steel. When I was a girl I found it in the back of the armory. Maman had it restored for me, knowing I was going to join the army. She wanted me to become a Captain.”  
   
“Of course,” Danny sighed. “Blades from Númenor are the only kind the Wraiths are vulnerable to,”  
   
The three were quiet as they ate, though Carmilla’s mind was whirling. Relief and pain tangled in her, muddling her thoughts. She kept glancing over at Laura, who looked peaceful in sleep. They’d taken her out of her armor, and washed and dressed her in a pair of soft, white linen pants and a shirt, a green blanket pulled up to her chest. Her face was scraped in places and her arm was wrapped, a splint visible under the canvas of the bandage.  
   
Carmilla was still so, so in awe of her.  
   
So in love with her.  
   
Her heart broke.  
   
“Just...keep her happy, will you?” She asked quietly, looking up at Danny.  
   
“What?” Danny, asked, confused.  
   
“Laura’s in love with you, isn’t she?” Carmilla asked, tugging at a loose thread on her sleeve. “She doesn’t need taking care of. Just make sure she’s happy.”  
   
“Karnstein, she’s in love with _you_ ,” Danny said.  
   
“What?” Carmilla croaked after a moment, eyes wide in disbelief. “I’ve seen you two together, I--”  
   
“I’m with Ell, Elrond’s daughter,” Danny said with a sigh. “If she hasn’t already left on the ships to the West.”   
   
Carmilla stared at Danny and Mel in shocked silence.

“She’s right, broody,” Mel said, lightly smacking Carmilla’s good arm. “I helped her carry you here. Her world shattered when they said you might not wake up. She jumped into flames for you.”  
   
Carmilla looked back to Laura’s sleeping form, and noticed something she hadn’t seen at first.  
   
That fine silver chain that she’d left on Laura’s pillow before riding to Osgiliath was clasped around her neck, the tiny tree of Gondor peeking out from the collar of her shirt.  
   
Mel and Danny looked to each other and nodded.  
   
“We’ll let you get some rest,” Danny said, and patted Carmilla’s leg before departing, Mel not far behind.  
   
Carmilla glanced back at them, but couldn’t form words.  
   
Laura loved her.  
   
Lovely, brave, foolish Laura loved her back.   
   
Carmilla felt a lump in her throat, and lay back down on her cot, on her side this time, careful to not jostle her bad shoulder. She reached forward and tenderly took Laura’s good hand, and kissed her knuckles, and then laced their fingers together, letting a few stray tears fall.  
   
//  
   
A few days passed, and Carmilla grew stronger again, but refused to leave the houses of healing, not wanting to leave Laura’s side.  
   
Nobody dared ask her to leave.  
   
It was evening, the stars visible through the windows and the missing chunk of the wall across the room. The houses of healing had gone quiet as dark fell, the only sounds being hushed voices and footsteps, the occasional cough, the clinking of cutlery and tools.  
   
Carmilla was sitting beside Laura’s cot, having just dried Laura’s forehead from when she’d held a wet, cool cloth to it. Carmilla brushed Laura’s hair back, running her fingers through the silken strands, her other hand tangled with Laura’s.  
   
Laura let out a sigh and twitched slightly, and Carmilla’s eyes immediately flicked to Laura’s face. She watched with bated breath as Laura’s eyelids twitched and her breathing became irregular, and soon, Laura’s eyes cracked open.   
   
Laura looked around blearily, her eyes tired and sluggish looking, but they suddenly widened, her lips parting in shock when she saw Carmilla leaning over her, a worried look on her face.  
   
“Carm?” She rasped, her voice rough from disuse.  
   
“Laura,” Carmilla breathed, her hand cupping Laura’s cheek. She felt tears prick the corners of her eyes, and leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Laura’s temple. She pressed a kiss to Laura’s cheek and sighed. _“Laura.”_  
   
“You’re okay,” Laura gasped, smiling as she gripped Carmilla’s hand. “how--” She coughed, "how are you okay?”  
   
“Danny healed me, healed both of us,” Carmilla said, pulling back again, smoothing Laura’s hair. “It’s over, Laura. The war is over, Sauron’s gone.”  
   
Shock overtook Laura’s face, and she paused for a moment, before letting go of Carmilla’s hand only to cup the back of her head, and pull her down into a hard kiss.  
   
Carmilla’s eyes drifted closed, and her hand on Laura’s cheek moved to the back of her head, gently cradling it as they kissed. She smiled against Laura’s soft lips as she felt Laura’s fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck, and when she had to pull back for air, Laura chased her, pressing desperate kisses to her jaw, the corner of her mouth, her chin. Carmilla returned them feverishly, but soon they both slowed, curling into each other as best they could with Laura still lying on her cot.  
   
“Why am I not dead?” Laura mused breathlessly, eyes begging Carmilla to stay close.  
   
A few tears fell from Carmilla’s eyes as she tucked Laura’s hair behind her ear. “I don’t know,” Carmilla said, and swallowed hard. “Gods, you were supposed to stay safe, Laura,” She reached down and gingerly took Laura’s hand, the one that was splinted, and ran her thumb along her knuckles.  
   
“But then I wouldn’t have been me,” Laura murmured.  
   
Carmilla was on her knees, bent over Laura and their foreheads pressed together, drunk of the feel and the scent of her. “What am I going to do with you?” Carmilla asked with a watery chuckle. She pressed another kiss to Laura’s lips.  
   
Laura laughed, but it turned into a rattling cough, and Carmilla rubbed her chest until it subsided.  
   
“It’s over,” Laura breathed, running her fingers through Carmilla’s hair. “It’s over, and I love you.”  
   
//  
   
Several weeks later, all of Gondor and its guests were gathered in the courtyard outside the Citadel, waiting excitedly for the arrival of their new Queen.   
   
The sky was a clear blue, the air still chilly from the receding winter, but there was warmth in the sun again. The great mountains in the distance that had once marked the borders of Mordor were no longer black and soot covered, but clean and bright and snowcapped, the blue sky extending far beyond, unhindered by smoke and ash as it once had been.  
   
The city was beginning to rebuild itself.  
   
Debris was beginning to be carted away, masons working tirelessly to reshape the fallen stones and rebuild walls and homes. Carpenters on every corner were climbing up and down ladders, fixing doors and roofs, healers running to and fro, helping the wounded.  
   
The city was quiet this day, though.  
   
Waiting in a quiet hum of excitement for the arrival of their new queen.  
   
Armored guards holding spears flanked the stairs to the doors of the throne room, and banners and pennants bearing the white tree hung around the courtyard.  
   
The white tree of Gondor, just outside the throne room, where it had sat nearly dead for decades, was in full bloom, its white petals raining down upon the crowd.  
         
Laura stood to the right of the stairs to the throne room beside Carmilla, their hands intertwined.  
   
Laura was dressed in a deep green gown bordered in gleaming white embroidery, a gold belt resting on her hips, from which hung Carmilla’s Númenorian sword. Carmilla had given it to her when Laura was well enough to leave the houses of healing, claiming that Laura should have it, since she’d slain the Witch King with it. Laura, in turn, had given Carmilla her sword that Théoden had given her.  
   
Around her neck hung Carmilla’s pendent, and strapped to her back with the belt she’d worn in battle, was her splintered shield. Her hair hung wild around her shoulders, and on her brow sat a gold circlet, the face of a horse resting between her eyebrows. Her arm was still wrapped and splinted, but that morning, Carmilla had gently wrapped a golden bracelet around the white linen.  
   
Laura looked to Carmilla and smiled. Carmilla looked radiant in the morning light, her black velvet dress hugging her curves, the tree of Gondor embroidered in shining silver thread on the train of her gown. The bandage on her shoulder peeked out from the neck of her dress. Her hips were encircled by the belt she’d worn at Osgiliath, Laura’s sword hanging from it. The gold of Laura’s sword clashed with the silver of Carmilla’s belt buckle, but neither of them could bring themselves to care. Her hair was pinned up in curls and braids, strands curling around her neck and tendrils woven around the silver circlet that encircled her head.   
   
Carmilla looked to Laura, feeling Laura’s eyes on her, and blushed. “What?” She asked quietly, squeezing Laura’s hand as she blushed slightly.

Laura leaned forward and bumped her forehead against Carmilla’s, brushing her knuckles along Carmilla’s cheek. “I love you,” She murmured, and kissed her gently.  
   
Carmilla smiled softly, and returned the kiss. “I love you too.”  
   
Across the carpeted path to the stairs stood their friends, no, _family._

 

Mel stood proudly next to Kirsch, dressed in her armor that she’d spent hours polishing, her green cloak freshly washed and clasped around her neck, her helmet tucked under her arm, sword at her side. Kirsch, who was to be crowned King of Rohan upon his return to Edoras, wore his father’s armor, though he wore no crown. The King’s golden crown was kept safe elsewhere for his own coronation.  
   
Laura swallowed a lump in her throat at the sight of him in their father’s armor, and they shared a somber, yet hopeful look.  
   
JP and LaFontaine stood beside them, JP looking ethereal in a silver tunic, his dark hair pulled back into a delicate braid, and LaFontaine wore a deep red and gold tunic, gleaming black leather pants tucked into their armored boots.  
   
Perry stood on the top step, awaiting Danny, who would be arriving any moment. She’d exchanged her white robes for a white dress, Glamdring at her hip and her staff in her hands, her hair looking like fire, dancing in the winds from the mountains. Beside her stood a squire holding a cushion, atop which sat the winged crown of the Queen.  
   
A hush fell over the crowd as slow footsteps approached, and soon, Danny made her way down the path that split the crowd. Her entire being gleamed silver in the bright morning light. She was dressed in full regal armor, a hauberk of black velvet trimmed in silver, and burnished chainmail reaching her ankles. She wore a breastplate of polished steel, the white tree of Gondor, and the seven stars and the crown of the Queen embossed on the metal, fluted tassets hanging from it, and on her shoulders sat black leather and steel pauldrons, the winged pattern of the steel bordered in gold. On her forearms were fastened Will’s leather bracers, now cleaned. A mantle of black velvet embroidered with the white tree, the seven stars, and the crown lay on her shoulders and cascaded down her back. Her red hair fell around her face in waves.  
   
Andúril hung on her hip from a gleaming black and silver belt.  
   
Danny nodded to her subjects as she passed them, and greeted her friends on the way to the doors of the throne room.  
   
She gripped forearms with Kirsch and Mel, hugged JP and LaFontaine. She nodded to Carmilla, a look of mutual understanding passing between them, and she hugged Laura, kissing her head.  
   
Danny turned back to the doors of the throne room, and ascended the stairs, stopping two steps below Perry.  
   
Laura watched as her two friends shared a smile, and then Danny bowed her head to Perry.  
   
Perry leaned her staff up against the gilded doors to the throne room, and then reverently took the winged crown from its cushion, and held it high above Danny’s head for all to see.  
   
The crowd seemed to grow quieter as Perry lowered the crown onto Danny’s waiting head.  
   
“Now come the days of the Queen,” Perry said, her voice ringing out across the courtyard. “May they be blessed,” She added in a softer tone, sharing another smile with Danny.  
   
Perry stepped aside and Danny rose to the top of the steps, taking a breath. She then turned to face her kingdom, and the crowd erupted into triumphant cheers.  
   
Laura joined the cheering, and she would have been clapping with the crowd if her arm wasn’t injured. She gripped Camilla’s hand, a thrill going through her.  
   
When the cheering died down, Danny spoke.  
   
“This day does not belong to one woman, but to all,” Danny said, “let us together rebuild this world that we may share in the days of peace.”  
   
The courtyard erupted into cheers for the second time, but soon died down again as Danny began to sing.  
   
 _"Et Earello Endorenna utulien,  
Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn’,  
Ambar-metta,”  
   
“Out of the Great Sea to Middle-earth I am come  
in this place I will abide, and my heirs,  
unto the ending of the world,”_  
   
Danny descended the steps, and made her way back along the sky-blue carpet that split the crowd, and Laura grinned widely when she saw the entourage of elves part to reveal Ell, and her father, Elrond.  
   
Laura, still grinning, leaned her head against Carmilla's, her hand leaving her’s, and snaking around Carmilla’s waist as she watched her friend stare, shocked, at her lover, and then swept her up in a crushing hug and spun her around before kissing her passionately.  
   
Carmilla looked away from them and back to Laura, her heart swelling at the look of joy on Laura’s face.  
   
Laura’s eyes softened when she looked to Carmilla, and Carmilla reached forward and cupped Laura’s cheek, pulling her forward into a kiss.  
   
\-------  
   
Later that night, Laura and Carmilla stood in the throne room with Perry and their friends, Danny and Ell standing before them.  
   
Feasting and merriment had lasted throughout the day, and on into the night, chattering and laughter and music permeating the air of the city. Cooking fires crackled merrily every few feet and wine, beer, and mead flowed freely as the kingdom celebrated the coming of their Queen and the freedom of Middle-Earth.  
   
“Karnstein,” Danny said, the corners of her lips quirking up in amusement “I’m appointing you Princess of Ihthilien. Your duty will be to look after the Moon-Land. Mel will be head of your personal guard.”  
   
Carmilla bowed her head in acknowledgement and thanks, and Laura grinned, knowing what Carmilla was going to say next.  
   
By the looks of it, Danny did as well.  
   
“Your...Highness,” Carmilla said, clearly begrudging being so formal with someone she’d been so casual with only days before. She also wasn’t terribly pleased that she had to ask _permission_ for this. It was a personal decision, dammit.  
   
“Yes?”  
   
“I wish to ask your...permission,” Carmilla began, but Laura huffed beside her.  
   
“Danny, Carmilla and I are getting married, is what she’s trying to say,” Laura blurted out, losing her patience with Carmilla and her pride. She grinned, and looked to Carmilla. “I assume you won’t object?”  
   
Danny laughed, enjoying watching as Carmilla squirmed. “You have my blessing.”  
   
Laura turned to Carmilla, happy tears welling in her eyes, and she threw her arms around Carmilla’s neck, relishing in the feeling of Carmilla’s arms wrapping snugly around her waist.  
   
Danny and Ell left to retire to their chambers, seeing as they hadn’t seen each other in months, and their friends filed out the door to rejoin the festivities.  
   
Carmilla pulled back and gazed into Laura’s eyes, so in awe of the woman in her arms.  
   
“I’m so in love with you,” Carmilla whispered, brushing Laura’s tears away with her thumb.  
   
“I love you too,” Laura whispered back, and leaned in to capture Carmilla’s lips in a soft kiss.  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
fin.

**Author's Note:**

> A little background info:
> 
> The Valar are basically the gods of Middle-Earth, sort of like the Greek gods are to Olympus.


End file.
